Bump in the Night
by KLMeri
Summary: Their captain can handle sneaky Klingons, pompous Omnipotents, and a murderous Starfleet Command - but tell Jim Kirk a ghost story and he's done. It's not a good thing, then, when Kirk, Spock, and McCoy find themselves stranded inside a facility overrun by the dead. K/S/M. - COMPLETE
1. Part One

**Title**: Bump in the Night  
**Author**: klmeri  
**Fandom**: Star Trek AOS  
**Pairing**: Kirk/Spock/McCoy  
**Summary**: Their captain can handle sneaky Klingons, pompous Omnipotents, and a murderous Starfleet Command - but tell Jim Kirk a ghost story and he's done. It's not a good thing, then, when Kirk, Spock, and McCoy find themselves stranded inside a facility overrun by the dead.  
**A/N**: Believe it or not, I have not written a single (established) AOS McSpirk one-shot this year! So, using that paltry excuse, I present you with a story. A ghost story. Heh.

* * *

Leonard catches a portion of a conversation as two security officers step onto the transporter pad and arrange themselves to beam down with the others of the landing party. The words "legend has it" and "haunted" have Leonard spinning around and questioning them rather sharply, "What did you say?"

The men blink at him and his unexpected interest in their gossip. They echo each other with "Dr. McCoy?"

"What'd you just say about the Eisenhart Facility, Lieutenant?"

The lieutenant in question fidgets under McCoy's narrow-eyed scrutiny. "Nothing really... Just a rumor I heard, sir."

"What kind of rumor?"

The man flicks a _help-me-out_ glance at his partner, but the partner is not dumb enough to intervene. If the other officer could have taken a long step backwards without displacing himself from the pad, he looks like he would have done so.

"What kind of rumor?" Leonard repeats, letting his tone imply the consequences for continued hedging.

"A, um, ghost story," the lieutenant finally answers, seeming properly chastened. "I heard that it's one of the top ten of the most haunted places in the Alpha Quadrant."

Leonard sucks in a sharp breath and thinks, _crap_. Of all the places Command could have sent them for their latest mission...

In that moment, the lieutenant's eyes widen as if he has cottoned on to something. "Are you afraid of ghosts, Dr. McCoy?"

Leonard gives both men a sour look. "It's the living that I find frightening," he counters. Pivoting away, he locks his hands behind his back with a stiff posture not unlike a certain Vulcan's.

Silently, he thanks every saint he knows the name of that Jim has not yet arrived with Spock. First, Spock would be much too intrigued about the rumor once he had issued a scolding to their subordinates for bringing gossip into a mission rather than facts. An intrigued Spock asks too many questions. Second (and this is the most worrying to Leonard), Jim must never hear about a rumor, tall-tale or passing joke that concerns the supernatural. Leonard simply does not have enough hyposprays to handle the fallout.

He decides to hope for the best and forget what he just heard about their destination. Today is likely to be another typical mission.

It's only after that last thought that Leonard remembers what typical missions are like.

Jim enters the room just then with Spock on his heels, eyes cutting curiously to the groaning doctor as he steps onto the transporter pad. "Is everything all right, Bones?"

Leonard grunts an "Aye, Captain."

When Spock looks at him in curiosity too, Leonard ceases to pinch the bridge of his nose and drops his hands to his sides.

"Let's do this," he says to no one in particular, feeling not so prepared for their upcoming mission after all.

Jim nods ever-so-slightly and addresses the tech manning the controls. "Energize."

The transporter builds up its charge and sends their molecules to the colony below.

* * *

They must have set a new record for fastest descent into chaos. One minute Leonard is listening to the ramblings of a congenial but somewhat slow-witted caretaker of an underground structure known as the Eisenhart Facility. (Once a workplace of some of the galaxy's brightest and most talented scientists, it is empty now in a very disconcerting way.) The next moment, the lights of the control center malfunction and shut off, plunging their group into darkness.

"What the...?" Leonard starts to sputter just before the lights blink back on again.

"Hm," Spock says, then turns to the caretaker, wanting to know, "do you typically experience power outages?"

"Only when the Missus is upset."

Leonard's brows draw together as he tries to figure out if 'Missus' is an euphemism for the facility like 'Lady' is for the Enterprise. What he tends to think of as his sixth sense for _when bad things are about to happen_ gives a little ring just as someone cries out, "Captain!"

They find one of the security officers standing in the doorway to the control room, face white. "Captain, Garris is gone!"

"What?" Jim says, voice sharp, already crossing the large space in long strides to reach the quivering lieutenant.

"The l-l-lights went out, and when they came back on he was gone," the man reports. "He was standing right next to me, I swear it!"

Leonard pulls out his medical tricorder to assess the state that the fellow is in, but a second later a gust of frigid air hits him and the tricorder goes flying out of his hand like someone swatted it. It hits the wall with a crack and the tinkling of broken pieces.

"What the hell," he remarks, bewildered.

"The Missus doesn't like you," replies the caretaker, coming up behind him.

"Jim," Leonard calls over his shoulder, unnerved by the amusement in the caretaker's eyes and thinking he might be safer on the other side of the room with people he trusts.

There is a pop, like the sound of high voltage blowing out a transponder, and everyone in the room has but a moment to brace themselves as the control center is dropped into darkness again.

Leonard shivers from the sudden sensation that he is no longer among the group. It occurs to him, then, that Jim or Spock might have been targeted to disappear next, maybe even himself. He cries out both of their names in rapid succession.

_Where are the damn emergency lights?_ he thinks with a bit of desperation, thrusting out a hand blindly before him.

"Jim, answer me! Spock?"

"_...Bones?_"

Why does Jim sound so distant if he is only across the room?

Leonard reaches out farther.

Someone brushes past Leonard with a mournful trail of words: "_...Missus likes to keep visitors away..._"

The lights nearly blind Leonard when they return, and he finds himself staring at a familiar face just beyond his fingertips.

Jim looks equally surprised. Spock is beside him.

Leonard drops his hand and takes stock of their surroundings. What he discovers alarms him.

"Jim," he says with trepidation.

The three of them are utterly alone.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jim demands, pupils blown wide.

Leonard can't answer that.

Spock looks between them, likely sensing an undercurrent but not knowing the exact nature of it.

Jim draws out a phaser. "Contact the Enterprise," he tells Spock in a tight voice. "We need them on standby for emergency beam-out, and have Chekov scan the area for the others."

"Jim," Leonard says, "it can't be... it just can't. Someone else is here, someone that we don't know about. For that matter, what happened to—"

"Bones," Jim cuts him off, "stop. Just let me think, okay?"

Leonard falls silent and turns his attention to Spock.

Spock lifts his gaze away from his communicator. There is an expression in his dark eyes that Leonard never likes to see.

"My communicator is non-responsive."

Leonard pulls his comm out, as does Jim, and they flip them open. The malfunction, it seems, isn't restricted to one device.

"I've got a bad feeling," murmurs Leonard.

The overhead lights flicker in response and, as the three men hold their breath, the room goes dark for the third time.

* * *

Jim is sweating. The temperature is freezingly cold, and still he sweats. This is Leonard's first clue that there might be a problem. The second clue is that the man's normally steady phaser hand has been wavering slightly ever since the lights went out and never came back on. The captain's other hand remains twisted into the back of Spock's tunic, who is in the lead of their three-person group.

Leonard brings up the tail-end of the line. While he isn't uncomfortable with this arrangement, per se, he is worried about the root cause of it, and that sets him to thinking.

Jim laughs in the face of death (sometimes literally, much to the aggravation of the many individuals who work hard to keep their captain safe), but he never makes light of those who have given their lives. Jim understands in a way that neither Leonard nor Spock can what it really means to feel the end of one's existence. He never offers to explain this understanding to them, however, and it isn't a subject Leonard and Spock are willing to broach if they can avoid it. Jim's link to death has simply become another facet of the man he is today.

Watching him now, Leonard knows that something else is at work. Superstition, he names it, but it too is not a word to be spoken lightly. Jim Kirk may be the most superstitious man Leonard has ever known, yet he is acutely aware that Jim will deny it if accused, probably is denying it even now, albeit in silence.

That doesn't prevent that very man from jumping at a sudden scraping sound up ahead, though.

"What was that?" Jim demands, poking his phaser around Spock's side to aim into the empty darkness before them.

Leonard resists the urge to say _calm down_. "Probably nothing. A rat."

The science tricorder in Spock's hands whirs away as it scans their surroundings. "I show no signs of life."

If anything, that makes Jim tenser.

Leonard relents a little. "Spock, can you calibrate the meter to pick up the full spectrum of energy signatures?"

Spock turns his head to the side without glancing backwards. "Is there something in particular you suspect we might find, Doctor?"

Leonard lays a hand on Kirk's shoulder. "Not really. But could you do it?"

Spock proceeds to adjust the tricorder as asked and relays the negative results to them.

"See," Leonard murmurs to the back of Jim's head, "like I said—nothing to worry about."

Leonard feels Jim's gaze slide in his direction. "The lights didn't go out by themselves, Bones."

"It could be faulty wiring."

Spock has turned around to face the pair now, although Leonard doesn't know for certain how much of their expressions he can see in the dark.

"Is there something I should be aware of?" he inquires. His tone is a shade too polite, a warning not to lie.

As if Jim senses Leonard opening his mouth, Jim hisses near Leonard's ear, "_Bones._"

Annoyed at that unspoken command to shut up, Leonard shoots back, "He's going to find out sooner or later."

"That doesn't give you the right to tell him!"

"Like hell!"

"...Gentlemen."

"You're not in a relationship of one anymore," Leonard goes on to say, "which means sharing!"

"I'm seriously reconsidering that decision," Jim replies darkly.

Leonard moves in to poke the idiot in the breastbone but his aim is off because his sight is hampered by the lack of light; he hits a collarbone instead. He gives it an extra poke, along with "Don't threaten me, kid. I've got enough ammunition to land you in a therapist's office for the rest of your career."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

"_Gentlemen_," Spock says again, his voice lower and more urgent.

It's not Spock's tone which stops their mounting confrontation, it is the hand that Spock places on either of their shoulders. The grip is so tight that Leonard feels the strain on his bones. Then Spock forcefully spins him and Jim around.

Jim makes a noise between a gasp and a whimper.

Leonard hates to admit it, but he does too.

Their visitor floats above the floor. It is vaguely humanoid in shape, grayish and opaque, with tendrils of _something_ which leak out of it, downwards like dripping water. Its empty eye sockets are fixed straight ahead, but they know without being told that it can still see them.

"Should we...?" Spock begins in a tense voice.

It moves forward.

Jim jerks back with the instinct to run at the same time that he swings his phaser up with both hands and takes aim.

Leonard cries, "Jim, no!" but it's too late.

Jim fires, and the specter vanishes.

Leonard grabs his captain's shaking arms and lowers them until the phaser is pointed at the floor. He feels Spock pressing in close and wishes not for the first time that he could see something of the Vulcan's face other than a vague outline.

For a full minute, they listen to the eerie silence of the facility in which they are trapped. Jim's pulse subsides enough under Leonard's fingers that he can tell Jim has regained some of his control.

"What now?" he asks of the two men beside him.

"We move on," Spock replies. "We must find a way out."

Jim doesn't answer at all.

They turn around again and resume their original heading. This time Leonard stays shoulder-to-shoulder with Jim, grateful that Spock takes the lead without being asked. As they move forward, Jim's free hand finds the back of Spock's tunic again.

"Stay close," Jim whispers to them both.

_You got it, kid,_ Leonard doesn't say, instead removing his own phaser and mirroring Jim, with the exception that his left hand finds and latches onto Jim's arm.

As long as they are connected, they'll be okay, he thinks.

A chill touches his nape. He does not let himself turn around.

* * *

They've been turning corners for over an hour. This place is an endless maze, sometimes depositing them back to the place where they began but never offering them an escape. Leonard, tired from the mindless walking, suggests that they find a corner to occupy and drag over some of the debris they have occasionally encountered.

"We can use the loose bricks," he says. "Heat them up so there's no smoke. At this rate, we'll be hypothermic in a matter of hours, and I'm not equipped to treat us properly."

"Spock?" Jim questions for an opinion on the matter, even though Jim himself is shivering, has been shivering nonstop since it became evident that they are not alone.

"The Doctor's concerns are valid. I have no additional suggestions."

Leonard reaches out, finds a wall, and slides down it with a sigh. Once seated, he flips open his communicator and forces his numb fingers to turn the dial. Every frequency is still scratchy, which should definitely not be the case. He pauses on one channel when he thinks he hears a faint sound, as if someone is whispering, but soon the static overwhelms even the trace of a voice. No one responds to his repeated inquires of "Hello?"

"Great," he mutters at last, snapping the communicator closed. "Jim?"

A shoulder bumps into his. "Here."

Leonard's hand makes contact with Jim's knee, and he pats it. The presence looming over them is a protective one—Spock, Leonard surmises, waiting for instructions.

"You're cold too," he points out. "Come down here. We can search for stuff in a minute." When Spock doesn't move, he adds, "On Jim's right," so that the Vulcan can cease his lengthy deliberation over choosing one of them without offending the other.

After Spock is settled next to Jim, Leonard leans into Jim, and Jim's arm automatically slips around his shoulders.

"Sorry, Bones," Jim says.

Leonard sighs again. "I'm sorry too. I was harsh earlier. Believe me when I say I've got things that I need to work on, myself. Nobody's perfect."

"The best people usually aren't. ...Spock?"

"Yes, Jim?"

Jim sounds a little sheepish as he admits, "I'm afraid of ghosts."

"A legitimate fear, it would seem," comes the unperturbed response.

Jim relaxes ever-so-slightly between them. A minute passes by in silence before he murmurs hopefully, "Maybe it won't come back."

Leonard nods, silently echoing that sentiment.

"If it does return, we should try to communicate with it."

The doctor thumps his head back against the wall. "Only you, Spock," he mutters, partially amused.

Then he presses closer to Jim because Jim has started to shiver again.

* * *

Leonard is relieved that he can see Jim's and Spock's faces again. The reddish-orange glow of the bricks makes them all look slightly ghoulish but it's better than no light at all.

"Heat is definitely a priority," he tells them, "but water is important too. We don't know how long it will take Scotty to break through whatever is dampening our communications signal, and I'd rather be prepared just in case it turns out to be a long while."

"Assuming there is a water source, given the dilapidation of this structure, the odds are greatly in favor of it being contaminated."

"So we boil it, Spock. Survival 101."

"I am not familiar with your reference."

"All right, all right," Jim intercedes before the head-butting can truly begin. "Basic survival is a given, Bones. We're all trained, and we've all been in this situation before."

_Not with a ghost for a company._ Leonard knows better than to say that. "The present matters more than the past right now, Jim-boy. We need water. To find water, we need to be able to see. To see, we need light. It's logical."

"Your capacity for logic astounds me, Doctor."

"Oh, shut it, hobgoblin—and nobody's around but us. You'd better call me Leonard."

"And if I do not?"

"Then I'm going to pinch your ears!"

"Careful, Bones, he might like that."

"_Jim_," Leonard and Spock chastise at the same time.

"I can't believe I'm dating prudes," Jim says with mock-surprise.

Leonard opts to reach over and pinch Jim hard.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For calling me a prude. I'm not the one who blushes when Spock takes off his shirt."

"Bones," Jim groans, "that was one time."

"Mm-hm. And how long did it take to coax you out of the bathroom?"

"Stop holding that against me!"

"Actually, I thought it was adorable of you to be nervous."

"Thanks," Jim responds dryly. "Let me know when you think my dignity can return without being attacked."

Leonard quips, "You never had much of that to begin with."

Jim drops his head forward and grins.

Leonard purses his mouth, somehow feeling like he didn't win their little spar.

"As fascinating as I find parts of this conversation, perhaps our time would be best-served by deciding upon our next course of action."

Jim shifts, causing shadows to collect across his face. "You're right, Spock—and so is Bones. Fancy carrying some homemade torches?"

Uh-oh, thinks Leonard. "Will it be the kind that you can light yourself on fire from? Because, no, I don't fancy that idea."

Spock rises to his feet. "Unfortunately, Leonard, there would be no alternative."

When Spock begins to remove his blue tunic, Leonard and Jim both declare a hasty timeout.

"What in blazes are you doing?" Leonard demands, standing up and tugging Spock's shirt back into place over his stomach.

The Vulcan raises his eyebrows. "I would be removing my outer garment, as the material is suitably flammable."

Leonard thinks he really ought to take a hand to Spock's backside. "Don't you dare," he tells the idiot. "Of the three of us, you're the most susceptible to lower temperatures."

"I am able to regulate my body temperature."

"Yeah, up until the point where you're too exhausted to keep up your Vulcan hoodoo because it's _cold_." Leonard drags his own tunic over his head. "Use mine," he says, chucking it at Spock in irritation.

Spock catches it with ease.

Jim is already trying to take off his tunic too.

"Keep it on," Spock and Leonard say to that.

Jim narrows his eyes at them. "Why? Bones, you know you hate the cold. _I_, on the other hand, survived yearly blizzards. I was born in Iowa, you know."

"Yeah, it's a miracle you grew up," Leonard mutters under his breath. Then, more loudly, "Jim, this isn't a contest."

"I can do it."

"Leonard and I would prefer that you do not remove your clothing at this time. Should it become necessary, you will be notified."

Ah, Spock... ever the diplomat. Leonard likes that about him, most of the time.

The stubborn set to Jim's jaw lingers only a moment longer. Then the man quirks one of the corners of his mouth.

"Don't say it," Leonard warns him, knowing full well what that glint of mischief in Jim's eyes means.

Jim shrugs a tiny bit—and grins anyway. "Who's the prude now?"

Leonard calls him an infant, following the insult up with a threat to strangle him and dispose of the body. Jim jokes that he likes Leonard a whole _murderous_ lot too, resulting in Leonard actually strangling Jim a little bit, up until Spock intervenes and tells them he is fully capable of proceeding through the facility without them and their childish antics.

Jim sulks at being called childish, and Leonard hides his embarrassment by prodding grouchily at the phaser-warmed bricks with a long stick that he realizes belatedly is perfect for a torch.

Across their pseudo-campfire, a soft noise escapes from Spock, not quite unlike a suppressed human sigh. Then the Vulcan begins to methodically tear Leonard's uniform tunic into long strips.

* * *

They've been sporadically calling out for those who went missing, and each time there is no response, Leonard feels further disheartened. Jim has a grim set to his mouth that means he blames himself for the inability to locate his crewmen, and Spock keeps alternating his gaze between his tricorder readings and the path ahead of them. Although nothing is said, Leonard has a feeling that, like him, Spock believes the men are not simply missing but dead. They shouldn't lose hope so quickly, he knows that, but at some point hope has to give way to practicality. It has never been an easy balance to maintain for any of them.

"Need a rest?" he asks Jim softly as they come abreast of a hallway he thinks looks suspiciously like one they have been down before.

"No," Jim says, but he turns his head to consider Leonard with a hint of concern. "Do you?"

"I'm fine," he lies. "These boots were made for walking." They weren't, really. They were pinching the hell out of his toes.

"Spock," Jim calls to the Vulcan who is several arm's lengths ahead of them waving his tricorder at a wall, "let's a short break."

"Jim, I'm fine, I—"

"Captain," Spock says, grabbing their attention just by the way he says Jim's title, "there is a hollow space beyond this wall."

"A room?" Leonard guesses, moving to Spock's side.

"The dimensional readings suggest a tunnel."

Jim's eyes light up. "A secret passageway!"

Leonard studies the brick wall with dismay. "It's secret, all right, if there's no way to access it."

Spock hands Leonard his tricorder and begins to press his fingertips at various spots on the wall.

Jim stuffs his phaser under his arm, ready to help. "There's always a trick to opening it. Bones, move your torch closer so I can see what I'm looking at."

"That will not be necessary, Captain." Seeming to have to found a spot that he likes, Spock draws back slightly and before either of them can react, slams his fist into the wall.

Jim and Leonard gape at him as dust and flecks of mortar rain down on them.

"Did you just punch a hole through a brick wall?" Jim asks incredulously of his second-in-command.

"Affirmative," Spock replies. "It is not difficult if one finds the proper weak spot."

Leonard latches onto Jim's arm. "No, Spock," he says, voice strangled, "it isn't difficult for _you_. But someone less Vulcan might break his hand."

Jim shakes him off. "I wasn't thinking about trying it, Bones."

"Sure you weren't, kid."

Spock has returned to ignoring them in lieu of inspecting the hole he created. He pushes and pulls at the surrounding bricks, working them out of the wall like it is the easiest task he has done all day, and tosses them aside.

"On a scale of one to ten, how aroused are you right now?" Jim whispers to Leonard.

"Mm, eight—though it would probably be an eleven if we weren't trapped underground and in danger of dying."

"Yeah," Jim agrees, "death can be a buzz kill."

Leonard snorts, then coughs dust out of his lungs from the construction work going on, courtesy of their Vulcan.

Jim takes the torch from him and moves to stand by Spock's shoulder. "I'll go first, Spock."

"Jim, wait," Leonard calls as Spock sets down the last brick and steps aside, allowing Jim to stick a leg through a now man-sized hole. "Is this a good idea?"

Jim doesn't dismiss the concern but he does say, "If we're playing someone's game, then the smartest thing we can do is turn the tables in our favor."

Leonard gestures at the exposed tunnel. "And what if this is part of the game?"

But Jim shakes his head. "I have a feeling that it's not." A few seconds later, he is fully inside the tunnel and out of Leonard's sight.

"Damn," Leonard mutters, because he has long since learned to trust Jim's instincts as much as his own.

Spock offers Leonard a knowing look before he follows Jim into the tunnel. Leonard is not far behind.

* * *

Jim is finally himself. He moves a faster clip than the other men, always keeping a few feet ahead while he runs his torch along the tunnel wall, peering at cobwebs and poking at small crevices. Leonard wishes there were less creepy-crawlies accompanying them on this journey into the unknown, but he is glad at least that Jim can explore what is visible rather than worry about the unearthly things that might not be.

Also, this is an opportunity he can seize to have a quiet chat with Spock.

"We need a plan," he whispers.

"Beyond the one that we currently have?"

"Yes. This is a 'if you see a ghost' plan. If you see a ghost..."

"Talk to it."

"No, Spock! If you see a ghost, _grab Jim_ then run like hell."

"Leonard, it is not reasonable to assume we must take evasive action." Spock pauses long enough to indicate that he has considered something else. "Unless you have an objective beyond the obvious one. Would you care to explain?"

"You saw what he did before."

"Yes. He fired his phaser."

"That's right, Spock, he used his weapon. Now tell me: if an ensign responded that way in the field to someone who had not been positively identified as a threat, what would you do?"

"I would require him to undergo additional training and, possibly, a psychological evaluation before I would be comfortable releasing him to serve in another field operation."

"But Jim's no ensign," Leonard points out. "He's a seasoned officer. He reacts that way because his fear takes control before he can think properly."

"You are implying that he is emotionally compromised."

"Yes, I am," Leonard says grimly. "So unless you want to find yourself in the position of forcibly taking his phaser away from him, along with his command, I suggest you remove him as far as is physically possible when given the chance."

"Is it possible to escape a ghost?"

The gravity of that question thunks Leonard over the head, and his shoulders slump. "I don't know, Spock. I really don't know."

Spock shifts closer. "Leonard..."

"Hey, guys!" they hear.

With his torch held aloft, Jim has turned to face them. How long he has been watching them converse in low tones without interrupting they will never know.

"I think I found something," he says now that he has their attention.

Leonard lets Spock go first, but it is to Leonard that Jim gestures with his hand when they come abreast of him.

"Bones," Jim says somewhat cheekily, "meet Bones."

"Oh great," Leonard deadpans, looking at the skeleton crumpled across the tunnel floor. "My future self."

Spock's eyebrows draw together. "How does this situation warrant humor?"

"Because Bones and _bones_," Jim says, using the torch's flame to highlight the rictus grin on the skull. "Get it?"

"The discovery of a corpse is not a matter for hilarity."

"But—"

Leonard rolls his eyes heavenward. "He's Vulcan, Jim. Let it go."

Jim huffs and turns away, stepping carefully over the remains. Leonard does the same, not wanting to disturb the poor bastard that died in such a cold dark place. Spock lingers a moment behind them, running his tricorder over the yellowed bones in their partially petrified clothing. Then he makes some kind of adjustment to his device, probably to store the information, and joins them.

Some time later when the passageway comes to an abrupt end at a set of stairs, Leonard is relieved. "We can get out of here," he says. "Thank god. I thought the torch wasn't going to make it much longer."

"Afraid of the dark, Bones?"

"Afraid of my fist, Jim?" he counters.

Jim laughs, then hands the dying torch to Spock. He starts up the stairs with Spock in close attendance. The door at the top is metal, unlike the crumbing material of the tunnel, and it gives way with a heavy groan as Jim sets his shoulder to it.

Leonard feels a waft of fresh, climate-controlled air brush past his face. When he is about to offer up another thank you to the Lord Almighty, Jim screams.

The ghost doesn't need the darkness because it is no longer hiding. It drifts in the doorway, a silent figure, neither coming nor with each other, they all are frozen, both the living and the dead.

The wheezing noise that Jim makes—a desperate, ragged sound—jolts Leonard's brain back into action.

Jim's face is paler than the apparition, his brow slicked with sweat. Abruptly, the man lists to one side.

"Spock, catch him!" Leonard cries the warning barely in time.

Spock drops the torch just as Jim goes limp and pitches backwards.

The ghost opens its mouth then, as the torch gutters and dies at the foot of the stairs, and releases an unholy shriek, rushing down at them like an unforgiving wind. The vice around Leonard's chest is the ghost passing through him, and it feels uncannily like a heart attack. In the process, Spock has been overbalanced, Leonard loses his own footing and is not able to counter Spock's fall. He cracks his elbow on a step as he and the Vulcan (and Jim too) go tumbling down to the bottom.

In the aftermath, Leonard just lies there under the weight of his loved ones and refuses to think or feel. If he thinks, he will have to acknowledge that, yes, they really are trapped underground with a ghost and, yes, it's out to kill them.

If he feels, he'll have to admit that he's broken something important too.

* * *

**Oh, no. I lied! This one-shot just turned itself into a two-shot. :/ I'm sorry - I may never learn.**


	2. Part Two

**Please wait a moment before you throw that rotten food or pick up that pitchfork. I didn't forget! Another writing project took precedence last week, and I literally spent several days in a row writing it to make the deadline. Please, please forgive me for my tardiness! I promise you that my guilty conscience never lets go of me until a story is done.**  
**That said, enjoy the rest of this story!**

* * *

"Oh joy," Leonard remarks, voice strained, when Spock lifts his upper body slightly. His vision goes fuzzy from pain. "Not good. Better put me back down."

Jim is clutching the hand of Leonard's un-injured limb. "Bones?" He sounds like he's in as much pain as Leonard, even though that isn't possible.

"Shoulder," surmises Leonard with a doctor's instinct. "Definitely broken, and crap... Spock, I think I landed on your tricorder."

"Bones, what can we do?"

Leonard names a drug in his pack. While he hates to dip into their limited supply of painkillers, he knows he won't be able to think without it. He prays neither Jim nor Spock suffer an injury later on.

Even with Jim gingerly unhooking the medkit from Leonard's belt, the tiniest movements result in severe pain. Leonard wants to vomit from it but he can't even roll over to comfortably do so. His entire shoulder feels like a brick, swollen to twice its size. The body is trying to minimize further damage to the already fragile ligaments and tendons around the broken bone.

_We don't have a stabilizer for my arm,_ he thinks with dismay.

Jim holds up a cartridge from the kit, and Leonard confirms that it is the right one but decides to be a bit thrifty when asked how much to dial on the hypospray for dosage. Once the hypospray is loaded and ready, Jim presses the tip to the side of Leonard's neck, injecting the contents with none of gusto that Leonard usually injects him.

"Is this going to work?" Jim wants to know.

"It'll take some of the edge off. Give it a minute, and then," Leonard swallows at the next thought, "y'all can move me."

Spock shifts nearer. "Leonard..." He brings his hand towards Leonard's temple.

Leonard reacts immediately with "Don't you dare!"

Spock pinches his eyebrows together. "Let me help you."

"Don't, Spock. At least one of us has to be able-bodied. I'm injured, and Jim is—" He meets Jim's eyes with a silent apology. "—terrified."

Jim drops his chin to his chest and rakes his fingers through his hair. "I'm sorry." The words are painfully subdued.

"It's not your fault," Leonard replies.

"If I didn't—if I was—" Though Jim has trouble expressing his regret, it's clear enough in his eyes.

"Jim," Spock says in lieu of Leonard repeating himself, "none of what has transpired requires that you shoulder the blame... unless you care to share that with us."

"Why would you say that? I'm the captain," Jim argues. "I know what I'm responsible for."

The Vulcan counters in a gentle tone, "Sometimes I think you do not."

_Yes_, Leonard thinks to himself. _How many times will they have go through this with him?_

A captain is responsible for the safety of his crew when he is in a position to protect them. Yet Fate has a way of throwing them into the worst possible scenarios, into situations that often leave them as the helpless audience bearing witness to the suffering of their colleagues. That some of them can ultimately escape those situations and live to tell about it is almost always due to Jim's quick, creative thinking.

But Jim can only count the losses. He has saved hundreds of people, whole races even, but never once forgiven himself for a single person that has been sacrificed in the process. Ironically, it is this blindness, this self-flagellation, that drives the man harder than any expectation that Starfleet could demand of him.

Leonard fears that Jim will ruin himself in pursuit of the impossible, and yet he loves Jim for being brave enough to try. He knows that Spock feels for Jim in a similar way, both loving and fearing how bright of a star the man truly is. They try their best, together, to keep Jim from burning away too quickly in his quest to protect everyone but himself.

Does Jim understand that? How much they give to him, for him? Why they always want him safe?

Watching Jim now, he knows the answer is still no. He can only hope that there comes a day when Jim is a wiser man. Of course that doesn't mean he or Spock will love Jim any less until such time.

"Spock, help me sit up," Leonard says to the Vulcan. Because the medicine is fast-acting, his arm is starting to go numb, which is a good thing. With Spock's slow and careful attention, Leonard finds himself in a seated position that doesn't make him want to die.

"You need a sling," Jim says. "How about bandages?"

"That could work."

Apparently Jim has had some experience in creating makeshift arm slings out of bandages. In a matter of minutes, Leonard doesn't have to hold his own arm up. He's very grateful for that. He wipes at beads of perspiration on his forehead with his free hand.

Jim and Spock exchange a glance.

"Bones..." Jim begins.

"I know what you're going to say, Jim," Leonard cuts in, "and the answer's no. We stick together."

"Spock or I could—"

"_No_," he repeats more fiercely. "Need I remind you both of all the times we _did_ split up?"

Jim flinches. Spock's mouth presses into a flat line.

"Exactly," Leonard says wearily. "Don't put me through that. I don't need emotional pain on top of physical pain."

Jim sits back on his heels and scrubs the side of his hand against his cheekbone. "We can't stay here."

"Wasn't going to suggest it, kid."

Jim looks over to Spock again. "Then would you consider letting Spock carry you?"

Leonard purses his mouth.

Spock's face reveals nothing at the sight of the doctor's dismay.

Jim stares at Leonard expectantly.

"All right," Leonard concedes. "But only until we're upstairs."

"Fair enough," agrees his captain, rising to his feet.

Without a word, Spock gathers Leonard to his chest and picks him up.

* * *

Going up really isn't a decision; it's an only option. Ghost or not, it's obvious they were on the correct path, and to go back would mean to return to the mindless wandering of the maze-like corridors for God knows how long. The three officers are not that foolish.

At the top of the stairs, the door is ajar. They move through it to find themselves back in the control room of the facility.

"Well I'll be damned," Leonard says. "Does anyone else feel like we should've been here a lot sooner?"

No one answers him. Jim has flipped open his communicator and is tuning it to find a working frequency. Spock stands like he is made of stone, with as much speaking ability as one. Leonard understands too well that Spock is attempting to make no move that jars him.

He gripes in a soft tone, "Put me down, hobgoblin."

Spock does not.

Leonard gives in and drops his forehead to the side of the Vulcan's neck. "Stubborn," he mutters. He would never admit that his sensibilities aren't nearly as offended as they should be. He's in a weakened state, in pain. Being close to Spock is actually comforting.

"Jim," Spock says after a while.

Leonard drags his eyelids open, not remembering having closed them.

"Kirk to Enterprise," Leonard hears, as he is only able to see Jim's back since the man is turned away from them. "Come in Enterprise."

The fizzle-pop-fizzle-pop coming from the communicator speaker is disheartening.

Leonard has to clear his voice twice before he can speak. "Spock, you can put me down now. I'm no lightweight. Your arms have to be hurting."

"Certainly they do not hurt more than yours." Spock blinks, draws a small breath. "Forgive me. That remark was un-called for."

This is one of the reasons why Leonard finds Spock so amusing. Spock is a Vulcan who knows how to sass. Nonetheless, Leonard says, "Darlin', you're forgiven. Now for goodness's sake, let me sit into that chair over there, otherwise I'm going to start pinching you!"

Spock moves to the chair and somewhat reluctantly kneels to set Leonard onto it.

Leonard holds back most of his grimace while he settles into a position that doesn't press any part of his wounded shoulder against a hard surface. Spock stays kneeling at his feet for a moment, simply looking up at him.

Leonard is reminded of how much he stupidly loves the Vulcan. "Jim," he says, like that should resolve everything, from their situation to his out-of-control feelings.

Jim has come over to join them. The expression on his face is grim.

Leonard forgets for a moment what he was thinking as he reads their future in Jim's face. "What now?" he asks.

Spock stands up, facing Jim as well. "If we have truly been trapped here, it is for a reason. There is a solution."

Jim is tense about the eyes as he nods his agreement. "I know."

Leonard glances between them. Maybe the throbbing of his shoulder has dulled his ability to think because he doesn't know what solution they are hinting at.

Jim lets his eyes fall closed only for a moment, as if he's praying, before he opens them again and turns around to face the empty side of the room. He squares his shoulders.

"I want to negotiate," he declares.

"Jim, who are—" Leonard shuts up abruptly, his eyes going wide. Jim _can't_ be...

"If there's someone here with us," Jim starts again, "show yourself. I want to negotiate with you."

Leonard finds himself holding his breath. The chill at his nape is a foreboding sign.

"Show yourself!" Jim is demanding now. "I want to—"

The person who steps out of the dark is not the one they are expecting.

The caretaker is smiling crookedly. His eyes look like bottomless black pits. "So," he croons, "you're ready. Let's negotiate."

"Jim," Leonard says uncertainly as the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. "Jim, don't go over there."

Jim flicks his phaser to stun. "I'm not going anywhere, Bones—but the person who messed with my officers might be." His voice is flat with anger.

Leonard has the urge to take a hold of the back of Jim's tunic regardless of the promise.

They all hear it, like a slow crawl of something—_clunk-clunk-clunk_—coming towards the room. Then, without warning, the lights snap on, nearly blinding them.

Jim has jerked his phaser up and taken aim, but in the brightness surrounding them, the menacing caretaker has vanished. Jim's mouth works slowly, like he's trying to sound out a word. Spock is stiff with realization.

"Oh shit," Leonard says for all three of them.

The lights click off again.

Leonard comes out of his chair in a panic (broken shoulder be damned) and latches onto the tail-end of the first shirt he reaches. The person twists around and clutches at him too. Leonard can barely make out that the angles of Jim's face, but the relief he feels is overwhelming.

Jim's gaze stays with Leonard for a moment before turning, searching. "...Spock?" the man calls unsteadily. "Spock?"

Leonard echoes the name, feeling suddenly sick, wanting to reach out into the darkness for the Vulcan yet terrified to let Jim go with his only good hand.

Spock never answers them. It is with mounting terror that Jim and Leonard come to understand that Spock is no longer among them. He simply disappeared with the lights.

* * *

"It's my fault. It's my fault, Jim. It's my—"

"_Bones_." Jim can't grab Leonard's shoulders and shake him from his stupor, but he puts enough bite into his voice to break through and reach Leonard.

Jim gentles his tone. "Bones, stop. We can't assume..." His throat works. "We can't assume that Spock's gone." Jim adds, almost pleading, "Stay with me, okay?"

Leonard shudders, and that brings pain. The pain gives him the clarity to think. "There wasn't time for him to walk out, but that means there wasn't time for him to be taken by force either. Surely we would have heard it."

Jim is a shadow in the dark but Leonard pictures Jim rubbing his bottom lip in thought, as he is wont to do. "We're missing something that's right in front of us, Bones."

Leonard clenches and unclenches his fistful of Jim's clothes. "There wasn't enough time."

"Unless," Jim murmurs, "the method itself only takes seconds."

Leonard sucks in a breath. "Like molecular transportation?"

Jim finds Leonard's hand and squeezes it. "I would bet my life on it!"

"If he's been transported, if the others were too, then there has to be a machine, Jim... But I don't recall seeing something like that. You and Spock reviewed the schematics of the building during the mission prep, didn't you?"

"We'll only see what the architect wants us to see. That tunnel definitely wasn't part of the plan. Bones, there has to be a way to pick up the trail of an energy source like that. It must be running independently of the main generator."

Leonard hears the tell-tale sounds of Jim peeling off the back of his communicator. "What are you doing?"

"Our tricorder is busted, but I think I can tweak this." Jim huffs out a quiet laugh. "You'd be surprised at what you learn to do during a survival crash course."

Jim is talking about the class that every first-year suffers through at the Academy, which Leonard remembers with zero fondness. Even Med-track students weren't exempted from it, and somehow Leonard had ended up assigned to a group of idiots who nearly died from eating poisoned roots. He had treated them, of course, well enough that no one actually expired before the Academy came back to the drop-off site to retrieve the students. He thinks if he had been part of Kirk's team instead, he might have learned something useful during that particular lesson barring that it paid to avoid people with no survival instincts.

Those are regrets long past, however, and at present Leonard has a hard time convincing himself that as smart as Jim is, the genius has yet to develop the ability to see in the dark. The doctor turns about, carefully, straining to see a light source. "Damn it," he curses. "It's like midnight in here."

"It's okay, Bones. I think I got it."

"You can't possibly—"

The communicator spits a shower of sparks, and Jim yelps. As the floating embers die out, Leonard can see Jim stick his burned fingers into his mouth.

"—know what you're doing," the doctor finishes with a sigh. "Oh, Jim."

But Jim is chuckling. He re-attaches the back of the communicator casing and twists the front dial. The device starts to beep steadily. As Jim swings it around, the beeping slows down and speeds up like a meter seeking electromagnetic waves.

"I'm impressed," Leonard admits.

Jim sounds smug. "You should be, Bones. I'm an impressive guy."

_Like he doesn't know it._ Jim is not going to trick Leonard into saying that, though.

"That way," Jim announces triumphantly when the beeping reaches a crescendo. "Follow me."

Leonard lets the man pull him along, finding it ironic that this time he's the one who is holding on fiercely like his life depends on it. He tries not to think too terribly hard about the fact it's _Spock's_ life which depends on them, and he simply cannot bear to acknowledge the possibility that Spock is not alive to depend on anyone.

No matter what Jim believes, it's Leonard's fault.

The poor hobgoblin.

* * *

They are cautious, Jim feeling along the walls and Leonard nearly glued to his back. Leonard has been apprehensive since the moment they left the control room (after all, last time they were almost instantly lost), but the communicator is picking up a strong energy signal and Jim seems determined to follow it.

After a few corridor turns, they come to a blank wall.

"Hold up, Bones," Jim decides. "Can you let go of me for a second?"

"Only a second," Leonard agrees nervously. "I can't lose you too."

"You won't. I promise."

Leonard hears the scuffing of Jim's boots against the floor. Jim marches left, then comes back and goes right. He returns to Leonard quickly.

"It's right here."

"It can't be," Leonard argues, placing a hand flat against the cold brick wall.

"Maybe there's another tunnel."

"Maybe so but there's not another Vulcan to punch through it!"

Jim's worry and frustration leaks into his voice. "Bones, I need you to help me, not panic!"

"Like you panicked when you saw the ghost?"

Silence.

Leonard squeezes his eyes shut. "...Jim, I'm sorry."

Jim says nothing, just makes a tiny, pained noise.

Leonard tries to seek him out in the darkness. "Jim, please."

"..._B-Bones._"

Leonard freezes. He knows that sound of terror.

How had he failed to feel the cold turn of the air? To recognize the creepy sensation of being watched from afar? Leonard turns around to find exactly what has made Jim unable to speak.

It's the female. She hovers at the opening to the corridor from which they had just come. Slowly, now that she has Leonard's attention as well as Jim's, she moves toward the pair.

Leonard forgets about being injured; he forgets to be scared or angry. He backs up quickly, taking Jim by the wrist, and calls out a desperate warning: "Leave us alone!"

But the ghost doesn't stop coming.

Leonard is forced to drag Jim aside and look for an escape route. She's not taking Jim too. He won't allow it.

Jim doesn't come easily. His muscles are stiff with fright, and his breathing is labored.

"It's okay, Jim, it's okay," Leonard tells him repeatedly. "You're still with me."

The ghost does something unexpected in that she doesn't turn to follow their progress. She comes to a halt in front of the wall they had been arguing over and lingers there. Then, in the blink of an eye, she pushes through it and vanishes.

Leonard stares at the empty spot for a long minute. When his brain begins to work again, he says almost excitedly, "Jim!"

Jim still is not responsive.

"Jim!" he says again, shaking the wrist he is holding. "I think—I think we have to follow her."

That simple statement is what brings Kirk back to life.

"No," he argues, voice strangled. "No way. I'm not, we're not..." He tries to tear his wrist out of Leonard's grip.

"We're going to, Jim," Leonard replies firmly, although not without sympathy. "Because she wants us to."

"I'm not doing what a ghost wants, Bones!" Jim snaps.

"To save Spock you will."

The man's arm goes limp in Leonard's grasp.

"Jim?"

It feels like forever until Leonard hears a soft "Okay."

He sighs in relief. With one hurdle over, he faces the next one. "Now... how do we break down this wall?"

"You don't," Jim replies. "I will." He draws out his phaser and vaporizes the bricks into nothingness.

The glowing edges of the hole in the wall casts light, eerie and red, over Jim's features. For the briefest moment, he is a macabre portrait of himself, in deep contemplation of the weapon in his hand. Then Jim tucks the phaser out of sight, and Leonard, realizing that it must be drained of power now, offers his own.

"Keep it," Jim says. _Watch my back,_ he doesn't need to add.

Jim steps into the newly revealed tunnel, one which seems damper and more unpleasant than the first. Leonard follows him, opting to tuck their last phaser into his belt so that he can hold onto Jim again.

He's already learned his lesson about letting go the hard way.

* * *

This time the tunnel descends into the earth. The downward slope is gentle but the dust is unkind and makes the trek of their boots more tenuous. Leonard's foot slips once, and he instinctively jerks his arms out to catch his balance.

The subsequent wave of pain is horrendous and leaves tears leaking out of his eyes. Jim stands by him through it, not speaking since there is no comfort he can truly give. They move on.

At the end of the tunnel, absent a door, is a circular chamber. Leonard has no trouble seeing it because it is lit from within. The sound of machinery greets them, too.

"We found it," says Jim with obvious relief.

Leonard cannot shake yet another unsettling feeling. "I don't see any equipment." But he does see something that prompts him to start forward.

Jim veers off slightly, saying, "There's a door back here."

The unusual lump on the floor is not a person—or is no longer much of a person.

"My god," Leonard whispers, crouching down to inspect the remains in the low lighting.

"This can't be right," Jim calls somewhere to his left.

Leonard looks up. "Did you find it?"

"There's a generator in here, Bones—on its own line, too, which is why we picked it up in a blackout." There comes the noise of Jim knocking into or on something. "But, damn, this technology is ancient! There's absolutely no way a transporter could run off of this."

That is terrible news, indeed. It means they really don't know what happened to Spock or the others.

Leonard's unsettling feeling solidifies into an unpleasant suspicion. "It's the caretaker," he concludes, standing up and swaying on his feet for a few seconds. "He answered you. He said 'you're ready'. He's the one, Jim. I'll even bet he killed whoever this poor bastard was."

"What poor bastard?" Jim wants to know, crossing over to him.

Leonard indicates the pile of bones. Jim bends down to retrieve something and stands up, holding a scrap of cloth. The color is faded, the material shredded by rodents; it might have been part of a jumpsuit at one time. Jim turns it over for Leonard to see the stitching of a name.

"Laurel—I can't make out what comes after that."

"A woman," Jim murmurs, running his thumb over the black threads. "Bones..."

"Yeah, I get it. Our resident spook. Damned shame she died like this."

A wash of cold air down his back sets Leonard to shivering. "Jim," he says the name in warning.

But Jim isn't listening. He sheds his gold tunic while Leonard watches and kneels down to drape it over Laurel's remains like a shroud. Then, after bowing his head for a moment in silence, he says, "I wish we didn't have to leave her like this."

Leonard is touched. He offers a hand to aid in Jim coming to his feet. "There's not much we can do, Jim. I'm sorry. Maybe when we get out of here."

"Yeah, maybe."

Jim says nothing further, knowing as well as Leonard does that they—or anyone—won't ever return here once the facility has been classified as hostile.

"About the generator," Leonard switches the subject. "Can we use it?"

"To contact the ship?" Jim looks at him. "We don't have a choice. I'll build an old-school radio tower if I have to, Bones. We're getting out of here."

_And what about Spock?_ Leonard wants to ask. He lowers his gaze to the floor and swallows hard.

Let Jim go back to the ship. Jim has to, to be safe. But Leonard cannot go.

"I know what you're thinking," Jim says suddenly.

Leonard really hopes he doesn't.

"Bones, look at me."

Leonard does, trying and failing to sound irritated as he retorts, "What?"

Jim's gaze is measured, resolute. "I won't leave him behind, and you're not staying."

"Jim."

"That's an order, Doctor."

Leonard just shakes his head.

Jim closes his eyes and runs a hand tiredly over his face. "Bones," he pleads, somewhat desperately, "I can't argue with you about this. Please."

"It's Spock, Jim. You can't expect to me to walk away."

"I'm not. I'm asking you to return with me to the ship so you can be _healed_. Then we'll come back, us and probably half of the crew whether I give my permission or not. Spock's one of _us_, Bones, not just one of you, me, and him. He's family. The Enterprise doesn't turn its back on family."

Leonard gives a soft, emotional laugh. "If only he could hear that. It might do him some good."

"He knows. That's why he won't take a commission for his own ship."

Leonard feels a bit of shame. "I thought you didn't know about that."

"I know everything that goes on aboard my ship, Bones," Jim replies, lips pressing together humorlessly. "Even the things that no one chooses to tell me."

"He didn't want you to worry."

Jim turns away. "We'll discuss it later—when we have him back. I will see about that generator."

Jim starts across the room.

Leonard's mistake is not holding onto him, like he had been determined to do so far. When the caretaker appears—or rather, forms out of the shadows like the devil himself—Leonard is not with Jim to protect him or to take the blow. With maliciousness in his eyes, the caretaker attacks Jim with the clear intent to harm him.

Jim reacts quickly—but it's for naught. The fist that lashes out goes straight through the caretaker's chest.

Jim backs up, face paling, eyes growing wider.

And the spirit just grins. Then Jim is sailing through the air without a single hand being laid upon him and hits the opposite wall with a _crack_, crumpling down to lie still.

The caretaker vanishes.

Leonard goes to Jim, his beloved, too-motionless Jim, with horror and slips down to the ground next to him.

He's still breathing.

He's not dead. He's still breathing.

Leonard chokes on his gratitude and cups the side of Jim's face. When he fails to rouse the man, he unclips his communicator from his belt in a desperate attempt to do something to make the situation better. To his shock, the device actually works.

Leonard sags at the response to his plea of "Enterprise! Enterprise, come in!"

"_Capt'n!_"

"Scotty!" Leonard cries back. "Scotty, it's McCoy!"

"_Dr. McCoy? Doctor, thank god you're all right! Is the captain with ye? Lad—_" the voice begins to fade in and out, and so Leonard cannot tell if Scotty's talking to him. He catches only a handful of words: "_—hurry—fetch—left._"

Leonard wants to run his fingers along Jim's face just to reassure himself but doesn't have a free hand. "He's with me. Scotty, can you get a lock on him? He needs to get out of here!"

"_—Doctor—can't—you're breaking—transporter—Mr. Spock—_"

"Scotty, Scotty? Damn it!" Leonard shakes the communicator in frustration when the open channel fails. He slumps back against the wall, unmindful of his shoulder. "Why us, Jim?" he questions the unconscious man. "Why us?" His voice breaks. "Why Spock?"

Only silence answers him.

* * *

_Thump. Thump._

That is the sound of the back of Leonard's head meeting the wall. The quiet is deafening, so he's making noise.

Jim won't wake up.

His arm is killing him.

Spock is gone.

And the communicator is dead again.

Someone thinks this game is funny. Someone thinks their pain is funny.

Leonard has no energy left to get his revenge.

He thumps his head against the wall again, needing the distraction. The generator has a soft hum like a starship engine. The air is bitingly cold but not quite freezing.

"Why us?" he asks for the umpteenth time.

Because he closes his eyes, he doesn't see the lady who sits beside him to also mourn.

* * *

"_Fzzt—bzzt—McCoy?—fzzt—Dr. McCoy?_"

Leonard swats at the air around his head; there's an annoying insect that is buzzing out his name in patchy syllables.

His shirt is damp. When he opens his eyes, he realizes that his skin is dry. He hasn't been sweating, then. No fever. But why does this all feel like a hallucination?

The inspection of his black undershirt reveals that something dark and foul-smelling is covering his shirt, maybe from the wall. He wipes his hand on his trousers.

_Are you going to give up?_ someone asks him.

"No," he replies. "I'm waiting for..." What's he waiting for? Oh yeah. "...Jim." His hand finds a head against his knee. The short hair is damp too, and slightly curled. He pulls his hand away to find more ectoplasm.

"What's happening?" he wants to know.

_You're dying._

"I am?" He thinks about that, or tries to. "Is Jim?"

The answer seems like a yes.

Leonard fumbles for the communicator he had set down beside him. He tries to get it working again, calling for help. "Jim's dying," he tells it. "Please, you've got to get him out of here!"

For a split second, he thinks he hears a string of intelligible words, a voice that he wants to hear more than anything. Someone is responding.

But, no, that cannot be. No one else is here except the ghosts—and the ghosts don't like Leonard or Jim.

* * *

Leonard's lucidity comes and goes. He feels weak, like someone has tapped into his energy and is draining it. Once again, he thinks he hears that voice—Spock's voice—ordering him to speak.

Or maybe begging?

Spock doesn't beg, so that cannot be right. Leonard's brain is making things up now. It is as if with Jim so quiet beside him, he has lost the will to survive.

That doesn't sound right either, because if anything it is now Leonard's responsibility to save them. He has to figure out how to turn the full power back on; he has to fight the ghosts; he has to heal his broken arm and Jim's cracked head. If he isn't fighting to survive, then how can either of them live?

That thought is stolen from him again. Something cool touches his face; slick, not quite slimy. It tells him he is going to die here, and that it is his guilt killing him.

Leonard opens his eyes.

The woman has no eyes and dripping hair. _Why us?_ she asks, like him. _Why us?_

"Ask him," Leonard tells her.

She turns.

The caretaker is watching them both, always with a smile.

The Missus disappears.

Leonard adjusts the sling made of bandages supporting his throbbing arm and closes his eyes again.

* * *

"_Leonard._"

His fingers catch the edge of the communicator. "You back, hobgoblin?" he murmurs, words grating, throat dry. "Thought you had vanished into thin air."

"_Leonard, you must listen. I am not gone. I am on the Enterprise._"

"How'd you get there?"

"_You must turn on the lights._"

Leonard laughs like that's a joke.

"_Leonard, turn on the lights_."

"Jim is dying," he says instead, "and I'm broken."

Spock continues to talk to him, when the communicator lets him. Leonard really wishes he could see the Vulcan one last time. Spock tells him that's possible if he'd quit being a fool and turn on the lights.

Leonard retorts, "You're the fool. He's not going to let me turn them on again."

There isn't even a point in opening his eyes for their conversation. Strangely enough, he is reminded of when they hold each other at night.

Some things are easier said with the lights off.

"Spock, did I ever tell you—"

But Spock interrupts Leonard with, of all things, a threat: "_If you die because you are too stubborn to listen, I will not forgive you._"

At last he peeks open an eye. "Excuse me?"

All Spock says, one final time, is "_Turn them on._"

Leonard peels his back off the wall, sitting forward. He blinks grit from his eyes and feels like Rip Van Winkle waking up from a twenty-year nap. The caretaker is nowhere to be seen. Leonard brushes a spike of hair away from Jim's face and laboriously comes to his feet.

He hobbles to the room with the power source that hums. How is he supposed to turn on the main lights when there's only this smoking old thing? Spock is crazy.

Leonard rubs at his forehead. Maybe _he's_ crazy for thinking that Spock is talking to him.

Nonetheless, it seems worth a try.

"Ah well," Leonard mutters. He can turn _these_ lights off and back on again.

So that's what he does, pushing a big lever down, letting the darkness swallow everything, and then reversing the motion. When he hobbles back to find his communicator to tell Spock that nothing happened, he discovers he is very, very wrong.

Jim is gone.

* * *

The communicator clicks on by itself and calls Leonard's name.

Leonard doesn't feel like replying. He lost Jim.

The damn thing is insistent, though. It buzzes, "_Leonard, Leonard, Leonard_" repeatedly until Leonard snatches it up and barks back, "WHAT?"

"_Jim is safe,_" it says to him.

Leonard doesn't understand.

"_Please, you must turn on the lights again._"

"But I did, Spock, and now Jim's—"

"_Here. On the Enterprise. Leonard, I beg you, listen. I cannot explain it but you must do it once more._"

He thinks about it. "And I'll see you again? And Jim?"

"_Affirmative._"

Spock sounds so certain, how can Leonard deny him?

He takes the communicator with him this time when he goes to the ancient machine, saying into it, "You'd better be right."

With Spock waiting patiently on the other end, he kills the power.

Something moves behind Leonard, wants his attention, but the ethereal glow that overlaps his hand on the lever is Laurel urging him on. She is the result of what happens to those who choose to stay behind.

Leonard turns the lights back on—

—and Spock's grip on the edge of the transporter console tightens enough to crack its frame when their eyes meet.

Leonard cannot find words to speak, but just then he doesn't need to. Spock crosses the distance between them and takes the man into his arms.

* * *

_later..._

"I was supposed to win this round."

An eyebrow goes up.

"No, really," insists the loser. "I was supposed to win!"

Leonard shifts on the biobed to get comfortable. "Jim, I know the medical scanner says your head is harder than a Klingon's but sometimes I think you ran out of marbles ages ago. Spock is never going to let you win at chess."

Naturally, Jim Kirk frowns to hear this. "What do you mean 'let me win'?"

Leonard sighs through his nose and turns a woeful look onto their third companion.

"Leonard means to imply that until you are well-rested, a game of chess should not be a competition."

"That's not what I wanted to say at all, Spock."

Spock's look says _then you should have_.

Three days of recovering in Sickbay has left Leonard slightly grumpy. He hates being kept here. One would think he feels marginally better that Jim is also suffering the same fate, but Jim is driving him crazier than the cheerful staff. Of course, it's done in an attempt to keep Leonard from recalling what put them there.

But Leonard can't help himself. He thinks about her without meaning to. He pictures what was left, covered by Jim's tunic. Could he find that room again? Are there others, like Laurel, trapped behind walls and hidden away like secrets?

They're not going back down to the facility. Starfleet has issued the mandate: Eisenhart is off-limits. Spock informed them earlier of their newly assigned mission. The Enterprise breaks orbit on the next stardate. Jim will be at her helm.

Leonard's fingers of his healing limb twitch against his bedcovers.

He wonders how long it will be before he forgets this encounter.

"Bones?"

Leonard blinks, turns to find Jim watching him.

Jim holds his gaze for a short moment, mouth quirked but eyes somber, then turns to Spock. "Another round?"

Spock has already reset the board and makes the first move.

Jim nods to himself. "I'll win this time."

"You can certainly try," the Vulcan replies.

Leonard lies back, content to watch his lovers for the time being, thinking that the chill at his nape must surely be a figment of his imagination.

**The End**


End file.
